


Let Sleeping Angels Lie

by GreenCat42



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: I saw fanart of the two of them in pjs, M/M, after the Apocalypse and it changed, and sort of rewrote the bus scene, cuddling angel and demon, its fluffy ok, its just sort of a short little idea i had, short fic, what if aziraphale had agreed to go to crowley's flat and stay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 10:25:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19462045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenCat42/pseuds/GreenCat42
Summary: What if Aziraphale had agreed to stay in Crowley's flat after the Apocalypse was thwarted?





	Let Sleeping Angels Lie

Crowley didn’t regret asking the angel to stay in his flat. Not one bit. He saw the look Aziraphale gave him when he was discorporated and found out his bookshop had burned down. Deep sorrow had settled in those blue-green eyes and Crowley had longed to try and comfort him. 

Now they sat at the bus stop; exhausted from thwarting Armegedon and Crowley had to go and open his big mouth and remind him that his bookshop-his beloved bookshop-was cinders and ash. “I don’t think our sides would like that very much,” Aziraphale murmured fiddling with the pocket watch once more. 

“We don’t have sides anymore angel,” Crowley replied wishing he could reach out and take his hand, but again he was a coward-been one for 6,000 years. 

Aziraphale simply hummed, eyes looking down. “You don’t have anywhere to sleep angel.”

“I-uh-I could find a place. Hotels are lovely places to spend a night,” Aziraphale said trying so hard to be bright and give him a brave smile.

It had cracks leaking in, showing his sorrow. One of Crowley’s hands curled up tight, clenching into the material of his soot-covered pants, the other clenching the bottle of wine. “Ah, there it is,” Aziraphale said brightly spotting the lights of the bus coming down the hill. “Oh, it says Oxford.”

“The driver’ll take us to London, won’t know why,” Crowley said taking a swig from the bottle and setting it on the bench. 

Aziraphale gave him a flash of a smile fiddling with that damn watch again. The bus pulled up with a slight squeak and the doors opened. “After you,” Crowley said getting to his feet.

What Crowley wanted was a good long nap, maybe a few years. Put a bounce back into his step, but right now he had some convincing to do. Aziraphale thanked him and climbed the short steps onto the bus, Crowley behind him. 

Instead of sitting behind him like he always did, Crowley swung into the seat next to Aziraphale. The angel tensed just a touch when their legs brushed, Crowley’s arm slinging behind him. “Angel, I know you would love to stay in a hotel, but what if-what if our respecting offices decide to come after us after all, I can protect you,” Crowley said.

“I’m too tired to argue, alright. I’ll stay at your flat.”

Crowley blinked several times behind his sunglasses, turning to make sure the angel wasn’t joking. “Oh-well-uh ok.”

Hopefully, the angel wouldn’t notice the remains of a demon on his floor.  _ ‘I need to make sure to miracle that away before he comes in.’ _

Then the angel did something that made his heart twist in an odd and painful way-one that Crowley was unused to-he leaned his head against Crowley’s shoulder. Maybe it was the wine they’d been drinking, maybe it was the utter exhaustion both entities now dealt with, but Crowley never thought the day would come that Aziraphale would lean on him. He carefully rearranged his arm so it draped over the angel’s shoulders, brushing fingers against the lapel of his ridiculous creme jacket. “Wake me when we get to London,” Aziraphale muttered.

Crowley swallowed hard, leaning down just a bit. “Sure, angel.”

The bus ride sped by, well it did for Crowley. He was hyper-aware of the angel leaning on his shoulder, warm and solid. When the bus slowed down and stopped in front of his flat, he nudged the angel. “Aziraphale, we’re here.”

“Mmm oh right.”

The angel shook his head a little and the two climbed off the bus, Crowley glancing as it turned back to Oxford. The angel had never been to his flat, but there had been more reasons than one. Crowley just hoped that his plants hadn’t misbehaved while he was gone. 

They stood in a good kind of silence on the elevator ride up. Crowley had rented-well he miracled the lease-to have the penthouse and top suite. “Crowley, oh what happened to your door?” Aziraphale cried out when. “Were you robbed?”

“Nah, Hastur and co visited me before the apocalypse, tried to collect me.”

Crowley snapped his fingers, the door fixing itself, also the black oozing remains disappearing somewhere. Aziraphale, despite his fatigue, explored his flat. “I didn’t know you liked plants,” he said spotting the room filled with the lush greenery. “Such beautiful plants.”

They shook a little when they spotted Crowley who glared at the plants. Aziraphale brushed fingers over one leaf. “You’re beautiful yes you are.”

“Angel, stop coddling my plants, I think we’re both due for some rest.”

His heart did that weird tripping over itself-a human thing he was sure of. Crowley barely ever used his bedroom, it had a nice skylight that he sunbathed as a snake every few months, but other than that, he didn’t sleep. There was no dust of course, the bed had fresh linens-those Crowley miracled. “I uh-I don’t have any pjs,” Aziraphale said.

“You’re an ethereal being,” Crowley deadpanned.

He snapped his fingers and his all black clothing disappeared, instead he, had black shorts and a dark grey shirt that had a snake on it. “Coming angel?” 

Aziraphale huffed and snapped his fingers. Matching pjs replaced his stuffy old fashioned clothing. Light blue patterned the kind that was popular in the ’50s. The angel followed him through a short hallway and he opened the door to his bedroom. 

It was similarly fashioned after the rest of his flat, barely furnished. A bed, a nightstand, a dresser-one that he never used-and another door that led to a bathroom he also never used. Crowley pulled back the red comforter and slid into bed. He hadn’t shared a bed in years, the last person was a human and he tried not to think about them. The bed dipped and Aziraphale slid in. “Your bed is very comfy, I think its comfier than mine.”

“Only the best.”

He snapped his fingers and the lights went out. “Night angel.” 

“Good night.”

Crowley pulled the comforter over them, closing his eyes and let himself drift off. Demons didn’t actually sleep but slipped into a regenerative state one that Crowley indulged in from time to time. He had no idea about angels, but before he slipped into darkness, he heard Aziraphale’s soft snores. 

Like a snake, Crowley was slow to wake, cracking one eye open, then the other. Then when things came into focus, it usually took a minute or two, he could let his brain catch up. He was warm and he sighed. Then he felt the arms curled around his waist and soft puffs of air at his neck. Aziraphale during the night had curled around him, despite being shorter, and one of his legs had slid in between Crowley’s. His heart did that tripping thing again, but he was warm and comfortable. Deciding that he didn’t care one bit, Crowley relaxed and covered one of Aziraphale’s hands with his own. Soft murmurs breathed into his neck, and the angel tangled their hands together. Crowley tensed for another moment, then relaxed telling himself this was fine. 

He dozed for another hour or so-he didn’t really know-when he felt Aziraphale tense behind him. “C-Crowley?” 

Untangling their fingers, Crowley rolled over to face the angel. “Yeah?” 

Aziraphale’s curly hair was smooshed to one side, but he looked better. “I uh, I didn’t mean to to-”

“Curl around me like a snake?” Crowley couldn’t help but say, his lips quirking up at the corners.

To his utter surprise, red filled the angel’s cheeks. “You-you cried out in your sleep, and I-I well to calm you, I wrapped my arms around you.”

His blue-green eyes lowered the red deepening on his cheeks. “Angel, it's ok.” 

Crowley did something very brave, he brushed his hand across Aziraphale’s cheek. “I didn’t mind.”

“Oh ok.”

They sat there in silence, but Crowley dropped his hand. “Angel what are we going to do. Our respective offices are going to come after us,” he said. 

“We need to choose our faces wisely,” Aziraphale said.

“Swap bodies?” 

The angel nodded just a tiny bit. “Thought you said we’d explode.”

“Maybe not.”

“How do we-uh swap?” Crowley asked. 

He’d never done this before, he didn’t know anyone who had done it before either. “Just take my hand,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley reached out, sliding their hands together. Aziraphale leaned forward, leaning his forehead against his. Closing his eyes, he waited for a flash of light or something. Instead, he felt this weird pull at his stomach and a soft pop. “Did it work?” he asked, but his voice was all wrong.

Opening his eyes, he stared into his own slitted pupils. “Yes, I believe it did.” 

His face smiled, it was weird. “Don’t smile angel, my face isn’t used to it.” 

“You’ll give my face wrinkles,” Aziraphale complained brushing fingers across his cheek. “Now what?”

“We practice and wait.” 

“First of all I’m getting out these rediculous pjs,” Crowley grumbled.

“Then breakfast.”

Crowley rolled his eyes but tried out one of Aziraphale’s smiles. “Come on you lazy serpent.” 


End file.
